


When We Were Young

by LeanneFryingPan



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Babysitting, Childhood Friends, Don't worry, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Growing Up, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, lil shaw is a holy terror, obviously it's not romantic when they're kids cause eww, sticks to canon timeline and some canon events, teenage root is painfully gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-07-25 08:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7524901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeanneFryingPan/pseuds/LeanneFryingPan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Awkward teenage Root gets a job as tiny Shaw's babysitter in Bishop, Texas. They both have issues and secrets that other people just don't understand. It's the beginning of an unlikely and very bizarre friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where our eyes are never closing, hearts are never broken, time’s forever frozen still

**January** **23,** **1993**

It’s an unusually cold evening when 14-year-old Samantha Groves first walks up the steps to the Shaws’ front door. She rings the doorbell, then pulls her beanie over her ears and shivers as she waits. She hears a small crash from within the house, and then the door opens to a short, dark-haired woman with kind eyes and a tired smile.

The woman extends her hand. “You must be Samantha,” she says with a sigh of relief.

There’s no use in correcting her. “Yes, it’s so nice to meet you, Dr. Shaw,” she says, shaking the woman’s hand and smiling back at her.

“Please, call me Sanaz,” the woman replies, and the two of them walk inside. Another crash, louder this time, comes from upstairs. “I’m sorry for the short notice,” Sanaz continues, “It’s just that my husband and I have an important event to attend, and our regular babysitter… well, she…”

“Quit?”

Sanaz sighs. “Yes. Sameen can be a bit… rambunctious at times, but she’s a very sweet girl, really. You just have to keep an eye on her.”

“Not a problem, Dr. Sh- Sanaz, really.”

“No, I mean it. Sam isn’t exactly like-”

As if on cue, a small, wild-haired girl comes running down the stairs, pointing a nerf gun at her mother.

“Sameen, darling,” Sanaz says, exhausted. “Come here, come meet your new babysitter.”

“No,” Sameen growls, her finger on the trigger of the nerf gun. “I’m not a baby.”

“I know that, Sameen,” Sanaz replies. “If you want to prove how grown-up you are, how about you come down here and say hi to Samantha?”

Sameen scowls. “No.”

Samantha sighs, takes off her beanie, and walks towards the child. “Actually, sweetie,” she says, “You can call me Root.”

This gets Sameen’s attention. “Root?”

“Uh-huh. I don’t really like it when people call me Sam.”

Sameen pauses, still holding the nerf gun, pondering this. “Okay. Good. ‘Cause Sam is _my_ name anyway.”

Root grins, and Sam begins to lower the weapon. But as Root turns away, Sam pulls her arm back up and shoots twice. The first dart catches the back of Root’s left shoulder, but Root catches the second one in her hand, twirling it between her fingers. Sam furrows her brow, annoyed, but reluctantly drops the gun onto the floor and comes downstairs.

Sanaz chuckles, and plucks the dart from the back of Root’s jacket. “Well, okay, then. Sam’s father and I will be back around ten, but if there are any problems, I left the emergency phone numbers on the fridge. There’s money for dinner in the kitchen.” She turns to Sameen. “Good night, my darling. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She wraps the girl up in a huge hug, and Root can’t help but notice how Sameen tenses up, even though she hugs her mother back anyway. Sanaz nods a goodbye to Root, grabs her coat, and heads out the door.

Root stands across from Sam for a moment, the two of them silently daring the other to speak. Root eventually decides to order a pizza for the two of them (triple meat lover’s supreme, per Sam’s request, even though the mere concept of such a pizza makes Root want to vomit), and they play basketball in the driveway while they wait for the food to arrive. Root may be over a foot taller than Sam, but this kid knows how to play basketball. She uses her height (well, lack thereof) to her advantage, sneaking around and under Root, crouching so low that Root can’t possibly knock the ball out of her hands without falling over.

When the pizza finally comes, Root slowly picks the bits of meat off her slice while watching in fascination as this little girl shovels food into her mouth, using her napkin only to wipe the sweat out of her eyes. Within twenty minutes, the entire pizza is gone, and Sam has pizza sauce dripping from her nose and chin.

“Let’s get you washed up,” Root says as she tosses their paper plates in the trash. Sameen doesn’t budge. “Sameen,” Root tries again, holding out her hand. The little girl scowls and stares down at her white t-shirt, which is already covered in sweat, dirt, and sauce. She reaches out wickedly towards Root’s gray plaid button-down and wipes her hands down it, leaving a trail of grease stains. Root cringes as Sameen finishes cleaning her hands on the sides of her own jeans and stands up, the chair making an irritating scratching noise against the floor.

Sameen darts a hand out to grab the nerf gun on the counter, but Root is too fast. She snatches it up a split second before Sameen can get to it and turns the gun on the pouting child. “Okay, Sameen,” Root says with a grin. “You shot me once, so I think you owe me one, sweetie, but I’ll consider calling us even if you’ll take a shower and put on some PJs that aren’t covered in sweat.”

Sameen stare back defiantly, her arms folded across her chest.

Root briefly considers lowering the gun, but thinks better of it. “Have you ever played a game called Oregon Trail?”

Sameen shakes her head.

“Well, it’s a pretty cool computer game that I – that I play a lot. Do you like computer games, Sam?”

She gets a grunt and a short nod in reply, which she takes as an encouraging sign.

“So I’ll make you a deal, sweetie. If you can get out of the shower by 8:30, hair brushed, teeth brushed, I’ll show you how to play Oregon Trail on the computer. Sound good?”

Sameen stares down the barrel of the nerf gun, eyes dark as she considers the proposition. After a few moments, she nods slowly. “Fine.”

Sure enough, Sameen makes good on her promise, and by 9:15, she’s slumped over the keyboard, barely even bothering to pretend she’s still awake. Root smiles down at the sleeping child and finishes the game with a few clicks. When the game prompts her to type in her name for her high score, she looks over at Sameen and types “SAM” for the first time in years.

Root exits out of the game and gently nudges Sameen, who smacks her hand away. Root rolls her eyes and has just begun to scoop the girl up in her arms when Sameen’s eyes jolt open. She rolls out of Root’s arms and onto the floor. When she pulls herself up, she glares at Root. “I told you I’m not a baby.” She brushes herself off and stomps off up the stairs.

Ten minutes later, when Root goes to check on her, Sameen is fast asleep under a pile of blankets, clutching a stuffed lion that’s probably bigger than she is. Root leaves the door open just a crack before heading back downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just to clarify, in this chapter, Root is 14 and Shaw is 9. their ages/birthdays will be referenced in later chapters :D
> 
> the other chapters have a lot more going on than this one, i promise!  
> (chapter title lyrics are from ed sheeran's "photograph")


	2. Like the stars that fill the midnight sky, her memory fills my mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root has a bad day and ends up telling lil Shaw a secret.

**April 15, 1993**

It’s been almost three months now that Root’s been going from her own school to Sameen’s every day at 3:30 to pick the girl up and bring her home. Three months of Sameen riding her bike while her oversized helmet flops against her forehead as Root walks next to her, carrying both of their backpacks. Three months of the two of them doing their homework side by side at the kitchen table while Sameen eats about eight different snacks. Three months of Root wondering how on earth this girl can possibly still be hungry for dinner after all that, but ordering takeout or pulling leftovers out of the fridge anyway.

But tonight is different. Root leaves her own backpack untouched by the couch and watches blankly as Sameen reads a chapter of a science textbook, does a page of word problems, and fills out a grammar worksheet. She barely notices when Sameen slams the textbook shut and calls out her name.

“Root!”

Root snaps to attention. “What?” She looks at Sameen, who’s staring impatiently, waiting for a response. “Oh. You’re done already?”

Sameen nods. “You didn’t do anything.”

A bit taken aback, Root manages to reply, “Yeah… not today.”

Sam shrugs and begins putting her books back in her bag. “I’m hungry.”

“Oh! Right. Okay, um, just give me a minute.”

Root dazedly heats up some instant mac and cheese and brings it over to the couch where Sam is watching _Beauty and the Beast._ (The VHS is probably Sam’s most prized possession at this point. As it should be; they’ve certainly watched it enough.) Root eats about two bites and Sam finishes the entire bowl by herself.

When the movie is over, Root cleans up and tells Sameen, “Your parents aren’t gonna be back until late tonight, okay, so you’ve got to be in bed when they get home.”

“What time are they coming home?”

“I don’t know,” Root says, trying to hide the impatience in her voice, “Late.”

“I can stay up,” Sameen insists.

“Sameen – not tonight, okay? Not tonight. Go put on your PJs.”

Sameen pouts angrily, but she turns and trudges up the stairs.   

 

Sameen’s been lying in bed for about an hour – it seems like more – trying to fall asleep. She’s _definitely_ been _trying,_ but sleeping is so _boring_. It’s just no fun; what’s the point? She sighs and rolls over. She vaguely remembers something her mom once told her about counting sheep, but that doesn’t seem right. There are no sheep in her room, just her lion, and…

Her ears perk up at a noise coming from downstairs. She grabs her lion and trots over to the door to investigate. She opens it a crack and light floods in from the hall, but the sound gets a bit louder. Sameen’s no baby; she’s gonna get to the bottom of this.

Still dragging the lion across the floor, she slowly makes her way down the steps. Nope, nothing out of the ordinary – just Root, sitting on the couch, sniffling and hiccupping and – okay, that’s a little out of the ordinary.  

Sameen plops herself on the couch next to Root, who jumps, startled. “Are you crying?”

Root quickly wipes her face and looks over at Sameen. “What? No. No, go back to bed, sweetie.”

Sameen folds her arms across her chest. “I’m not tired.”

Root rubs her nose with the back of her sleeve and shakes her head. “You’re only nine, you’re just a kid. You shouldn’t be – just go back upstairs and go to bed, okay, Sam?”

Sameen doesn’t budge. Root sighs. This kid doesn’t let anything go. She turns her attention to the stuffed lion in Sameen’s lap and puts on a fake smile. “Hey, what’s this guy’s name?”

“It doesn’t have a name,” Sameen replies flatly. “It’s not real. So why are you crying?”

Root pauses, taken aback. “Oh. Right… okay.” She looks down at Sameen’s face and sees that spark of defiance the little girl always gets when she’s refusing to back down from a challenge. Root’s seen it before: when Sameen was determined to hit a three-point shot all the way from the end of the driveway, when she insisted on finishing her entire book before falling asleep at night, when she begged Root not to tell Sanaz how the microwave _actually_ got broken. And she’s got that look again now.

Root lets out another sigh. “Okay. Okay. I’m fine, I am. It’s just… two years ago today, something really bad happened, and I’m a little distracted, I guess.”

“What happened?”

Yeah, probably should’ve counted on the follow-up question. “I… I lost my best friend.”

Sameen wrinkles her nose in confusion. “How do you _lose_ a _person_?”

Root chuckles in spite of herself. “It was before your family moved here, or you would’ve heard about it. She was taken, by a really bad man, and she never came back. They don’t actually know where she went, but she’s not coming back.”

“Why not? Is she dead?”

Root feels like the wind’s just been knocked out of her. “Um, yeah,” she stammers. “Yeah. Um, my best friend is dead.”

Sameen nods slowly. “Oh. I never had a best friend. Is that really hard?”

Root stares. “It is.”

“Oh. Okay.”

They sit in silence for a few moments before Root adds, “Well, she was more than a friend to me.”

This catches Sam’s attention. “What’s _more_ than a friend?”

Root shakes her head. Of course. The poor girl barely even knows what a friend is, let alone _more_ than that. Root takes a deep breath and blurts, “Okay, I’m gonna tell you something, Sam. But only because I know how good you are at keeping secrets.”

Sameen nods vigorously, strands of hair falling into her eyes. “I can keep secrets.”

“I know, Sam.” Root smiles to herself and then stops for a second, carefully contemplating her next words. “Okay. Have you heard the word ‘gay’ before?”

Sameen shakes her head.

“Well, you probably will at some point,” Root says, “And most people are assholes – don’t tell your parents I said that word – and don’t know what it really means.”

She pauses to catch her breath and sees Sameen staring up at her, still waiting.

“So what it means,” Root continues, her voice shaking slightly, “Is that I loved my best friend the way those girls in the movies we watch love their boyfriends. Like the way they loved each other in _Beauty and the Beast_.” She swallows hard and looks anxiously at Sameen, waiting for a response.

Sameen shrugs. “Okay. I didn’t know that was a thing, but that’s cool, right?”

“Well, to some people it is, I guess, but not really around here. That’s not really how things work here. That’s why I need you to pinky promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

Root holds out her hand to Sam, who stares at it as if it offends her somehow. “Pinky promises are dumb,” Sam declares, “But I promise.”

Root nods. “Okay. Yeah. So that’s how I felt, and then I lost her…”

Sameen clutches her lion a little more tightly, and Root feels a pain in her heart as she closes her eyes and shakes her head. “I shouldn’t be putting this on you. You should go to bed.”

“No, no, no,” Sameen protests. “I have questions.”

Root fights back a smile. “You have questions.”

“Like… how do you _know_ if you’re gay?”

“Umm,” Root says, trying to come up with the perfect words to explain it, “I don’t know. I guess you just… feel it?”

Sameen fiddles with the stuffed animal in her arms. “Oh.”

She doesn’t have any more questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this wasn't entirely terrible and you kind of maybe liked it???
> 
> chapter title lyrics are from "the bluest eyes in texas" by restless heart


	3. It's not a crime to fall apart sometimes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root's birthday!!!! And lil Shaw's got some stuff to work through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for the feedback! i'm so glad you guys are liking the story! hope this chapter doesn't disappoint :)

**December 23, 1993**

Root stands outside Sam’s house, a finger hovering over the doorbell. Under ordinary circumstances, she wouldn’t bother with the pleasantries; she spends more time there than at her own house, after all. But today is far from ordinary, so she pushes the doorbell in slowly, standing still as she hears the sound echo within the house.

She shuffles her feet, staring awkwardly at the ground. The door opens a crack, and Sameen pokes her head out. “Hi.”

“Hi, Sam,” Root says, forcing a slight smile. Sameen opens the door the rest of the way and Root walks in, slipping her boots off at the doorway. “Where’s your mom?”

“She’s in the kitchen. What’s that?”

“What? Oh.” Root looks down at the foil-wrapped container in her arms. “It’s just some soup. Um, I know how hard it can be to lose someone you– someone you love. I just wanted to help in any way I can.”

“Okay. Cool.”

“Say thank you, Sameen.” Sanaz’s voice drifts in from the kitchen.

Root cracks just a little bit of a smile as Sameen stares at her sneakers and mumbles, “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, Sameen,” Root replies, heading towards the kitchen.

Sanaz waits for her there, dressed in all black, and takes the container from her. She places it on the counter and says, “Tell your mother I say thank you, too.”

“My mother hasn’t been near our stove in years,” Root says with a chuckle, “But I’ll pass the message along anyway.”

Sanaz lowers her voice and adds, “And thank you for being at Naveed’s service. I know it meant a lot to Sameen. She doesn’t show it, but it meant a lot.”

“Of course,” Root nods. “He was– he seemed like a great guy. I’m really sorry.”

Sanaz sighs. “Me too. But I have to go back to work sooner or later,” she says, reaching for her purse, “And it’s already later. There’s no point in putting it off any longer. I appreciate your coming over on your vacation to watch Sameen.”

“My mom’s at work anyway,” Root says with a shrug. “It’s no problem. I’ve missed Sam these last few weeks.”

“Yeah, it’s been…” Sanaz hesitates, searching for the right words. “Strange around here. It’ll be good to get back to normal. Or whatever normal is now, I suppose.”

Sanaz grabs her coat, says goodbye to Sameen, whispers something into the girl’s ear that makes her nod in annoyance, and leaves. For the first time in a long time, Root and Sam are back to the uncomfortable silence they started out with. They both stand in the living room, either unsure of what to say or just waiting for the other one to speak first.

Root takes a deep breath. “How have you been?”

“I’m okay.”

“Listen, it’s fine if you’re not–”

“I know.”

Root knows better than to push, but she has to be sure. “But you’re okay?”

Sam’s resolve begins to crumble as her eyes grow dark. When she finally speaks, she doesn’t yell so much as just shoot an annoyed glare at Root and snap, “Why does everyone keep asking me that? Why does everyone want to talk about how I’m feeling? It’s weird. It’s stupid and it’s weird and I don’t want to talk about it.”

Root’s pretty sure she’s never heard Sameen string that many sentences together at once before. She instinctively reaches out to touch Sameen’s arm, to comfort her somehow, but thinks better of it and quickly moves her hand up to brush her own hair behind her ear. She sits on the arm of the couch to get closer to Sameen’s level and says, “I’m sorry.”

Sameen fumes. “Stupid fireman.”

“Sorry?”

And so Sameen relays the story of what happened at the crash scene; how the fireman pulled her out of the car, how he told her that her father had gone to sleep and wouldn’t wake up, the way he just stared at her when she told him she was hungry, and those cruel words she overheard him saying to the other men at the scene: “I think there’s something wrong with the kid.”

Sameen looks up at Root, confusion spread across her face. “Why was he mean to me?”

Root takes a breath as she looks down at Sameen – not in quite the same way the fireman had, Sameen realizes; Root might not _understand_ entirely, but she accepts it regardless. After a moment, Root slowly replies, “I don’t know, Sam. Some people just think that things they don’t understand are wrong.” She pauses for a moment before adding, “But you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Well, I know _that_ ,” Sameen huffs, crossing her arms across her chest.

Root allows herself to smile fully this time. Well. This kid is something.

There’s another awkward silence before Sam glances up at Root and says with a slight smirk on her face, “I know what day it is, you know.”

“Oh, really,” Root says, raising her eyebrows.

Sameen nods. “So how old are you?”

Root looks down at her feet. “I’m fifteen today.”

“That’s _all_?” Sam asks, almost offended. “I thought you were all _grown-up_ or whatever. I’m gonna be your age soon.”

“Yes, Sam, but when you’re fifteen, I’ll be twenty–”

“Oh, what do you know, you’re not even a grown-up,” Sam grumbles.

“I know enough,” Root says indignantly.

Sameen rolls her eyes. “Whatever.” She walks over to the couch and, before Root can stop her, crawls under it.

“Sameen, what are you doing? Get out from under there!”

Sam rolls out from under the couch, not even bothering to brush the enormous dust bunnies off her clothes. “It’s okay. My mom told me to.” She holds out a small lumpy package wrapped in blue paper.

Root eyes it suspiciously. “Your mom told you to go play in the dust under the couch?”

Sameen glares. “ _No_ , she said to hide your present someplace safe and then give it to you. Do you want it or not?”

Root chuckles in spite of herself. “Sure.” As she takes the present and slowly begins to peel back the tape, she adds, “You guys really didn’t have to do this.”

“That’s what I said,” Sam mutters under her breath.

After a few moments of watching Root delicately unwrapping the gift, Sam reaches out and rips the paper open impatiently to reveal quite possibly the most terrifying stuffed animal Root has ever seen in her entire life. She’s pretty sure it’s supposed to be a bat, but it’s sort of square-shaped, and pitch black except for its yellow eyes and pointy white teeth.

Sam must have noticed the inquisitive look on Root’s face because she explains, “It reminded me of you.”

Root looks skeptically at the grotesque creature in her lap. “It did.”

“It’s weird. You like weird stuff, right?”

Root nods, still unable to tear her eyes away from the ugly bat. “I… guess I do.”

“Plus,” Sam adds, “Some kids at the toy store were making fun of it, and they called it lame. It wasn’t fair.”

“Sameen,” Root says slowly, “Did you kick these other kids in the shins?”

Sameen averts her eyes.

“Sameen.”

Still no answer, which is all the answer Root needs.

“Thank you,” Root says, placing the stuffed toy on the coffee table. “Really. I love it.”

“So what are you doing?” Sam asks.

“What?” Root looks up, confused.

“For your birthday. You’re not having some dumb party, are you?”

Root shakes her head. “Nope. No party.”

“Why not?”

Root hopes Sameen doesn’t notice the sadness in her eyes that she’s desperately trying to hide with a grin. “Hanging out with you is all the party I need, kiddo,” she says.

Sameen wrinkles her nose. “Eww.”

“Not into parties, huh?”

Sam shrugs. “Birthday parties are for babies.”

“Well, that’s not true,” Root says with a frown. Granted, she hasn’t exactly been invited to any birthday parties recently, but it’s only been a couple years since her mom tried to teach her how to put on eyeliner and she spent the night in the Freys’ basement for Hanna’s fourteenth (and final) birthday.

It feels like longer.

_It was about a month before Hanna’s disappearance, a warm Saturday night in early spring. Root hadn’t been as attached to her chosen name back then – Hanna called her Sam, after all, and if it was good enough for Hanna, it was good enough for her. Twelve-year-old Samantha Groves hadn’t had any money to buy Hanna a gift, so she’d spent months subtly pilfering art supplies from school in order to make her and Hanna objectively average-looking matching friendship bracelets. When Hanna unwrapped her bracelet from the newspaper (as much as they might have liked to, the Groves family just couldn’t afford to waste money on wrapping paper), she excitedly threw her arms around Root and hugged her for so long that Root got butterflies in her stomach just thinking about it the next day. Hanna put the bracelet on right then and there and never took it off._

_The police found it in the dirt outside the library a month later._

_But that night, together in Hanna’s basement, was the safest Root had ever felt. Just them and a few of Hanna’s friends, eating pizza, watching bad horror movies, sneaking beers out of the fridge after Hanna’s parents had gone to sleep, playing spin the bottle with the empty beer bottle… Hanna had gotten to kiss her crush that night, and afterwards, she looked over at Root and flashed her an ecstatic, toothy grin that made Root’s heart skip a beat. Root had her first kiss that night too, with some guy named Ryan or Brian or who even knows, it’s not like she was all that emotionally invested in the whole ordeal. She’d gotten to kiss Hanna too, before her kiss with Ryan/Brian, for about half a second when she spun and landed on Hanna, but Hanna laughed and told her it didn’t count as her first kiss because they were both girls. After Root kissed what’s-his-face, Hanna looked over at her encouragingly, as if to say, “Well? How was it?” Root forced a smile, grabbed a beer, and drank it in the bathroom, forcing herself to ignore the bitter taste, and sat there for half an hour until Hanna knocked on the door._

_“Sam? You okay?” Her muffled voice came through the door._

_Root rubbed at her temples as she shakily stood up and unlocked the door._

_“What’s going on with you?” Hanna asked, pushing her way into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her. “You just disappeared.” She turned her attention to the beer bottle by the sink. “And you’re drinking alone? Sam–”_

_“I’m fine,” Root interrupted, trying as hard as she could to focus on Hanna’s face._

_Hanna reached out and gave Root’s hand a quick squeeze. Root felt her heart flutter nervously as Hanna said, “Didn’t you like kissing him?”_

_And before Root could stop herself, she shook her head. “No.”_

_Hanna tilted her head, confused. “Why not?”_

_Root shrugged. “It just didn’t feel right.”_

_“Well, there are plenty of boys out there. It was probably just him. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure kissing me didn’t feel right either.”_

_Root hesitated for a moment before saying softly, “It felt better than kissing him.”_

_Hanna looked up, surprised._

_“I’m sorry,” Root said quickly, staring back fearfully._

_She had expected Hanna to run away, to yell at her, to slap her, anything. But instead Hanna had wrapped Root up in a hug and whispered, “Don’t worry about it. Don’t lock yourself up in here, okay? Come be with the rest of us.” She picked the empty bottle up off the sink and gave Root a quick smile before walking out of the bathroom, with Root following closely behind. Root’s head was spinning, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t just from the beer._

_That night, Root had gone to sleep curled up on the couch with Hanna, feeling more content than she ever had before._

“Root?”

Root blinks, snapping back to reality. And reality is ten-year-old Sameen Shaw hovering over her on the couch, staring blankly at her, repeating her name over and over. “Root.”

“Sorry,” Root says, running a hand through her hair. “What was that?”

“I _said_ ,” Sameen says, irritated, “You have a birthday cake, _right_?”

“Oh.” Root shakes her head. “No.”

“ _What?!”_ Sameen is outraged. “But that’s the best part of birthdays. Well, except for presents.” She pauses for a moment, deep in thought. “Nope. It’s cake. How can you not have a birthday cake?”

“I don’t know,” Root shrugs, “I didn’t get around to making one this year.”

Sameen cocks her head, confused. “Your mom doesn’t make you one?”

Root holds back a laugh. “Afraid not,” she says. At Sam’s horrified expression, she adds, “She would if she could. She’s just at work most of the time. Sometimes she brings me leftover pie from the diner, even when it’s not my birthday.” She gently rumples Sameen’s hair. “No need to worry about me, sweetie.”

“But it’s your birthday,” Sam protests.

“So what do you want to do, Sam, make a cake?”

And really, by now Root should know better than to joke about food around Sameen, because the girl’s eyes light up and she starts nodding feverishly.

“Oh, Sameen, no, I was–”

But Sameen is already rushing to the cabinets and pulling out ingredients (half of which Root is pretty sure don’t even _go_ in a cake), and Root’s not about to let this kid mess around with the oven on her own. So she grabs a cookbook off the shelf, puts the ketchup back in the cabinet, and rolls up her sleeves.

When all is said and done, Root’s pretty sure it’s the best birthday cake she’s ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from "let your tears fall" by kelly clarkson


	4. I wanna drown myself in a bottle of her perfume

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's right, Root's got a girl crush... so, you know, a crush. She's not smooth. Neither is lil Shaw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, friends, here's where the angst starts to kick in...

**July 8, 1994**

“Sameen,” Root says with a sigh as Sam tugs at her hand, “this is the third time this week. You’re _sure_ you don’t want to do something else?”

Sam shakes her head and pulls Root forward. Root rolls her eyes and walks up to the counter. “One adult and one child for _The Lion King_ at 12:30,” she says, fishing around in her pockets for cash.

“I’m not a _child,_ ” Sameen mutters.

“You are in the eyes of the movie theater,” Root replies, “and that extra two dollars we save on your ticket goes towards your snack bar budget. So you want to be a child, or not?”

Sameen reluctantly grumbles something that sounds vaguely like “Fine” and Root smiles. When she goes to put the money on the counter, though, she looks up and feels her heart skip a beat. She’s never understood that expression before – hearts can’t just _skip beats_ – but that’s the only way she can think to describe the sudden jolt of warmth she feels in her chest that she knows isn’t just because of the theater’s lack of air conditioning.

The girl behind the counter looks to be about Root’s age, with long blonde hair, and deep brown eyes that Root finds she can’t help staring into. Even in her movie theater standard-issued uniform (khakis and a polo shirt in a weird shade of maroon that doesn’t flatter _anyone_ ), something about her just captivates Root. No, not something – _everything._ The way the pieces of hair by the front of her face are just a little shorter than the rest, the way the light hits her dark eyes just enough to make them seem like they’re sparkling, the way the collar of her shirt seems to flutter just a little bit every time she takes a deep breath –

“Root!” Sam yanks on the bottom of Root’s shirt. “Quit staring.”

Root feels her face turn bright pink as the girl behind the counter tries to conceal a grin. “Um, sorry about that,” Root says, staring down at her shoes.

“Don’t worry about it,” the girl says with a smile. “It’s seven dollars.”

“What? Oh,” Root says, blushing even harder. She slides some crumpled bills on the counter and shoves the tickets in her pocket. “Sorry,” she adds again. “Thanks, um…” She glances down at the girl’s name tag, which the girl quickly slaps her hand over.

“They put my full name on this thing,” she explains. “Makes me feel like I’m ninety. Just Meg is fine.”

“Got it,” Root says, nodding way too hard. “Well, thanks, Meg.” She shoots Meg a grateful smile and heads towards the snack bar, where Sameen has already ordered a jumbo popcorn, nachos, and three different kinds of candy.

“That was gross,” Sameen says, her eyes darting over to Meg and then back to Root.

“Oh, be quiet,” Root says, playfully swatting at her hair, “or this time I won’t defend you when you tell the other kids to shut up and stop crying when Mufasa dies.”  

“Fine,” Sameen replies, “but your face is all pink.”

That just makes Root blush more. “They really need to get some AC in this place,” she mumbles.

\---

**July 13, 1994**

Root wipes the sweat from her brow and struggles to tie up her frizzy curls into a ponytail. Sameen runs ahead into the theater, armed with what will hopefully be enough cash for all of her snacking needs, as Root pulls today’s cash from Sanaz out of her back pocket. It’s slightly damp from her sweat, but what else can you expect when it’s over a hundred degrees out? Some kids could be convinced to stay home in their nice, air conditioned houses on a day like today, but no, not Sameen Shaw. She has to go to the movies and see _The Lion King_ for… maybe the twentieth time? Root’s lost count. All she knows is that both of them have that damn movie memorized by now, but Sam _still_ insists on being taken to see it almost every single day. And as long as Sanaz is paying for it, Root doesn’t mind.

She’ll never admit it (and it’s not like anyone’s asking), but ever since last Friday, she’s actually been looking forward to coming to the movies. Not so much the part where she sweats her ass off in a sticky chair for two hours while Sameen whispers all the words the movie under her breath and munches on whatever ungodly combination of snacks she’s mixed together today, but the part where there’s maybe possibly the slightest chance that she could somehow run into Meg again. She can pretend all she wants that she hasn’t spent the last few nights lying awake in bed, thinking about how beautifully Meg’s lips had curled when she smiled, and the perfect dark brown of her eyes, and wondering what Meg was short for, anyway – Megan? Margaret? Something else? Root thinks it wouldn’t matter if it was short for Megalomaniac. It would still be perfect.

Not that any of that matters, though – it’s been five days and Root hasn’t caught so much as a glimpse of Meg. She’s beginning to wonder if the whole thing was just a very elaborate hallucination when she places her seven dollars on the checkout counter and says, “One adult and one child for the 12:30–”

“ _Lion King_?”

Root snaps her head up. There, on the other side of the counter, is the gorgeous blonde girl she’s spent all week daydreaming about. She doesn’t think her mind has been able to do this girl justice. She’s even more beautiful than Root had remembered.

“Well?”

“Hmm?” Root’s eyes widen.

“Was I right? _The Lion King_?”

“Oh,” Root replies, laughing way harder than is necessary, “Yeah. How’d you know?”

Meg smiles as she tucks the money away into the cash register. “I’ve got a friend who works earlier in the week,” she explains, tucking her hair behind her ear, “and he told me the weirdest story about this tall girl who kept coming in with a kid who really, really liked the snack bar–” At that, she cocks her head in the direction of Sameen, who appears to be deep in thought, staring at two brightly colored boxes of candy. “And he said they always got tickets for _The Lion King_ at 12:30. Reminded me of someone.”

Root blushes bright pink – no, not blushes, remember, it’s the damn air conditioning – and looks down at her feet, unsure of how to respond.

Meg slides two tickets across the counter to Root. When Root reaches out to take them, their hands brush against each other slightly, and Root inhales sharply at the tingle she feels in her fingers. Meg looks up, almost concerned, but Root tries to cover up the noise with a cough. Meg raises her eyebrows, but doesn’t question it as Root quickly walks over to Sameen.

\---

**August 19, 1994**

Root’s gotten used to seeing Meg at the theater over the last month or so, but she’s not sure she’ll ever get used to the way it makes her feel. Her palms get sweaty and her mouth goes dry, and she hears words falling out of her mouth faster than her brain can process what she’s even saying. Sameen always stares at her with a combination of curiosity, confusion, and annoyance, which is pretty standard for her, but Root still can’t help but feel like she’s being a bad influence on the child for some reason.

But she shoves her feelings of guilt aside, does the best she can to fake a confident smile, and makes small talk with Meg (usually while Sam’s at the snack bar so she isn’t constantly trying to yank Root’s arm out of its socket to drag her to the theater before 12:30). Root’s learned that Meg moved from Alabama to Bishop in June when her dad got a new job in town, that she’s starting tenth grade in the fall just like Root, that she likes soccer (she plays center forward), and that she really, _really_ hates _Forrest Gump._ Meg didn’t actually tell her that last one, but she cringes every time someone buys a ticket for it, so Root can’t help but assume (and agree).  

It’s another sweltering Friday afternoon when Root gets her first chance to have a real one on one conversation. After the movie (Root’s stopped trying to keep track of how many times they’ve seen it by now), Sam’s too stubborn to admit she has to pee after drinking a forty-eight-ounce soda, so Root sends her into the bathroom to “wash the popcorn grease off her face” and waits outside. As Sam scampers in, she accidentally knocks into Meg, who’s wiping her hands with a paper towel. Meg looks after her, amused by this tiny running ball of energy.

“She’s sorry,” Root quickly blurts out.

Meg chuckles and shakes her head as she tosses the towel in the trash. “She’s _something_ ,” she says, and Root nods in agreement. “It’s fine. I needed to wake up anyway.” She leans back on the wall outside the bathroom and asks, “Hey, are you going to Darren’s party tonight?”

The incredibly confused look on Root’s face seems to be enough to clue Meg in to the fact that a) Root has absolutely no idea who Darren is, b) she certainly didn’t know he was having a party tonight, and c) even if she had known either of those things, no one invites Root to parties anyway, so it wouldn’t have made much of a difference.

Luckily, Meg doesn’t mention any of those things. Instead, she smiles and says, “Oh, you should totally come! Darren’s my buddy who works here, he’s a senior, he’s kind of a douche sometimes but he’s a ton of fun. What do you say?”

Root hesitates for a moment. She doesn’t really do parties, mostly for a lack of opportunity, but still… But then Meg flashes her a grin and Root finds herself agreeing before she even realizes what she’s saying.

“Great!” Meg says cheerfully. She reaches out and gives Root’s hand a quick squeeze before heading back to the ticket booth.

Root’s eyes go wide as she slowly raises her hand to look at it in its altered state. Meg’s touched it. Now it’s better somehow.

Sam walks out of the bathroom to see Root just standing there with her mouth hanging open, staring intently at her own hand. Sam rolls her eyes and grabs Root’s hand. Root yelps in protest and reluctantly follows her out of the theater.

\---

Root shows up to Darren’s around 11:30 that night. She’d told Meg she’d be there at 11, but she hadn’t thought to account for changing her outfit eight times before settling on plain denim shorts, a black t-shirt, and a flannel tied around her waist. She even put on _mascara_. And then spent ten minutes washing it off because she doesn’t actually know _how_ to put on mascara. She decided a choker and a little bit of lip gloss was about all the accessorizing she could pull off, and walked the twenty minutes to Darren’s house.

By the time she walks through the fence to Darren’s backyard, Meg is chatting with a few boys and drinking out of a red plastic cup. Meg’s face lights up when she sees Root, and she wildly gestures for Root to come join her. Judging by the glassy look in her eyes, Root guesses this isn’t Meg’s first drink of the night.

“Guys,” Meg says, her words slightly slurred, “This is my friend Root.”

_Friend?_ Root feels her heart flutter, and she smiles shyly.

“Nah, man,” one of the boys said, taking a gulp from his beer bottle, “That’s Sam Groves.”

Oh, right. Now that she’s up close, Root recognizes him. She’s not sure what his name is, but he sat behind her in algebra last year and tried to copy off her paper. Every. Single. Test. And he’d always get really pissed when she covered her answers, and start kicking the back of her chair. Lovely boy, really.

Root feels a surge of pride when Meg swats at the air in annoyance and responds, “ _No_ , her name is _Root_.”

Another boy shakes his head. “Sam Groves. Haven’t seen you all summer. You got… still not hot.” He elbows his friend in the ribs and they double over in laughter. Root doesn’t really think it’s all that funny.

“Shut up,” Meg says, rolling her eyes. “I’m getting another drink.” She grabs Root by the wrist. “Come with me.”

Root doesn’t know how to respond. She just nods and follows Meg to the drink table, grateful that Meg is leading because she can’t stop staring at the other girl – her _friend’s_ – hand so close to her own.

Meg grabs a ladle out of a punch bowl filled with a sickeningly pee-colored liquid and refills her cup before filling up a new cup and handing it to Root. Root sniffs the contents of the cup, gags, and looks up at Meg skeptically.

“Come on,” Meg giggles, taking a giant sip, “It’s good. Well,” she adds with a hiccup, “It is if you have enough of it.”

“What is it?” Root asks, cringing at the overwhelming stench of the drink in her hand.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Meg replies in a sing-song voice. “So your name’s Sam?”

“What?” Root shifts uncomfortably and cautiously takes a small sip from her cup. _Oh god. This just might be poison._

“Your name,” Meg says in an obnoxiously slow voice, “Is Saaaaaaaam.”

“Oh,” Root says, staring at her feet. “Yeah, I guess.”

“So how come you told me it was _Root_?” Meg dramatically jabs her finger into Root’s chest, but it’s more theatrical than accusatory.

“It’s just,” Root stammers, attempting another sip and wincing at the taste, “That’s what I like to be called.”

“How come?”

“I think you might be a little too far gone to understand the explanation right now. How many of those did you drink?”

“Not that many,” Meg protests, sticking out her lower lip and pouting. “Just three… plus this one… plus the first one. Ooh, and half a beer, I think, but it wasn’t very good so I’m pretty sure it doesn’t count.”

Root raises her eyebrows, not quite sure whether to be amused or concerned. “Maybe we should get you some water.”

Despite Meg’s very vocal objections, Root manages to bring her inside and sit her down at Darren’s kitchen table. The music from the party continues to blare outside as Root opens and closes the cabinets in search of a glass. When she finds one, she fills it up with some lukewarm tap water – it’s the best she’s gonna get this time of year – and places it on the table in front of Meg, who seems to have fallen asleep using her own shoulder as a pillow.

“Meg!” Root shakes her friend ( _friend_!) awake and slides the glass of water closer to her.

“I’m sorry,” Meg mumbles, her hair almost completely blocking her face.

Root gently tucks a strand of Meg’s hair behind her ear – it’s even softer than she’d imagined, and she’d spent much more time imagining it than she’d care to admit – and hands her the glass. “For what?” she asks.

Meg takes a drink of water and a deep breath before blurting out, “I didn’t even know your real name. I don’t know anything about this place. I don’t want to start school on Monday, Root.” She hiccups and Root sees a tear roll down her cheek, but thinks perhaps it’s better not to comment on that. “I can’t do it.”

Root pulls a chair up next to Meg and wraps her arm around Meg’s shoulder. “Of course you can,” she says. She presses her forehead against Meg’s and smiles. “I pretty much think you can do anything.”

Meg blinks suddenly, another tear quickly falling from her eye. She nods slowly, then her eyes go blank as she stares at the wall.

Root quickly pulls away and stands up. “You probably want to head home,” she says. “Um, should I call your dad?”

“No,” Meg replies with a sniffle and a shake of her head. “I can walk. It’s only a couple blocks.”

“Not by yourself, you can’t,” Root says. “You’ll pass out in the middle of the street or something. I’ll walk you back.”

Meg dazedly nods and stumbles out the door after Root.

\---

**December 23, 1994**

Root hasn’t exactly been planning much of anything for her birthday. She’s not exactly in a position to throw some kind of extravagant sweet sixteen party, and even if she was, it’s not like there are people lining up to hang out with her. So when Sanaz calls that morning, apologizing profusely, and tells Root she’s been called into the hospital on an emergency and can Root _please_ come look after Sameen for a few hours, she’ll pay her double, triple if she wants, and Root can bring over any friends she wants for her birthday, Root is secretly relieved. No matter how much she’s told herself she doesn’t care, she hadn’t really been looking forward to spending her birthday alone.

Sameen is delighted to see Root – well, delighted for Sameen, which basically means cracking a smile, grabbing Root’s hand, and pulling her into the house as hard as she can. She’s less delighted five minutes later when the doorbell rings again and Root excitedly opens the door to Meg.

“What is _she_ doing here?” Sam asks, glaring at the doorway.

“Sam!” Root closes the door behind Meg, who waves and smiles at Sameen. “Don’t be rude.”

“Well, why _is_ she here?”

“Meg’s my friend, Sam.”

Sameen continues glaring at Meg, her little hands balling up into fists and her eyes narrowing.

“ _Sameen_ ,” Root says, a warning tone in her voice.

“It’s fine,” Meg shrugs, taking off her coat. She reaches out and rumples Sameen’s hair. (Big mistake.) “The kid doesn’t look like much of a fighter.”

Root chuckles. “Looks can be deceiving.”

Sameen scowls and stares daggers down at the floor, and the three girls stand in uncomfortable silence for a minute before Root suggests, “How about we order some pizza?” Sameen may be annoyed, but she’s never too annoyed for pizza, so she shrugs and nods.

When the pizza finally comes, Sameen tears into hers (extra cheese, double sausage, triple pepperoni) while Root and Meg slowly nibble on their own plain slices. Meg gapes at the way Sam shovels down her food, but Root only has eyes for Meg. Sam gets the feeling she could probably start shooting at Root with her nerf gun and Root wouldn’t even notice unless Meg said something about it.

Sameen rolls her eyes and mumbles, “Don’t you ever do anything besides stare?”

Root’s eyes widen and her face turns bright red as she immediately snaps her attention away from Meg. Her breathing quickens as she stammers out, “I – I – I’m not – I’m –”  

Meg waves it off and takes another bite of pizza.

About half an hour later, Meg heads off to the bathroom and Sameen dives under the couch to dig up a purple gift bag containing Root’s birthday present. When she pokes her head out, hair covered in dust, she sees Root sitting on the couch, a stern look on her face.

“Sam,” Root says slowly, glancing over her shoulder, “You can’t say things like that, okay?”

“Things like what?” Sam pulls a giant ball of dust out of her sweatshirt and drops it on the floor.

Root lowers her voice. “What you said about me staring at Meg,” she says. “People might… take it the wrong way.”

Sameen frowns; then her face lights up with recognition. “Oh! You mean in a gay way.”

Root’s eyes widen. “Shhh! Yes, Sameen. In–” she looks around and lowers her voice– “In a _gay_ way.”   

“But that wouldn’t be the _wrong_ way. It’s what you’re doing, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes,” Root sighs, “But you need to be more careful. I need to be more careful. Why do you hate Meg so much? Are you jealous? I still have plenty of time to spend with you, Sameen.”

Sameen looks horrified at the very concept.

“I trusted you with a secret, Sam. I still am trusting you. So… please?”

Sam stares stoically at Root and gives a short nod. Root smiles and takes the gift bag from her. “Thank you,” she says as she tosses the excess tissue paper to Sameen, who balls it up and throws it across the room into the trash can.

Root reaches the bottom of the gift bag and pulls out a lava lamp. Her eyes light up. “Sam!” She throws her arms around Sameen excitedly. “I love it,” she murmurs.

Sameen has never looked more pleased with herself.

\---

Sanaz gets home around dinnertime that night, thanks Root profusely for coming by at the last minute, and sends her off to have “some _real_ birthday fun.” Root isn’t sure what that means exactly, but walking home with Meg, she thinks she’s having all the fun she could want.

When they reach Root’s house at the edge of town, the lights are still off. Root glances at her watch. “My mom’s working late,” she explains.

“What about your dad?” Meg asks.

Root inhales sharply.

“Never mind,” Meg says quickly.

“Do you want to come in and watch a movie or something?” Root says. “She won’t be back for hours.”

“Um, I don’t know,” Meg says hesitantly.

“Come on,” Root grins, hoping it hides how hard her heart is pounding, “It’s my birthday.”

“Okay,” Meg agrees, and the two of them head into Root’s living room.

“I don’t think we have any popcorn,” Root says, “But we might have some crackers? Or chips? Or, um, some bread?”

Meg chuckles. “I work at the movie theater, Root, I’m kind of sick of popcorn.”

“Oh. Yeah, of course.” Root shakes her head. “Obviously. Um, what do you want to watch? It’s mostly my mom’s movies, and she likes rom-coms and stuff, so I don’t know if that’s what you’re into, but–”

Meg holds up a VHS copy of _Fried Green Tomatoes_. “Root. Your birthday present. Remember?”

“Oh! Right!” Root excitedly slides the tape into the VCR and takes a seat on the couch next to Meg.

Two hours later, the credits are rolling, and Root’s trying to contain her emotions. Meg takes one look at her and starts laughing, and Root can’t help but laugh too.

Meg looks over towards the door. “Your mom still isn’t home?”

“No,” Root sighs, “She usually works right up until closing time.”

“That sucks.”

“It’s fine,” Root shrugs. “I like having alone time. And,” she adds, her heart starting to thump in her chest again, “I kind of like being alone with you.”

“You do.”

“Uh-huh.” Root finds herself leaning closer and resting her hand on Meg’s knee. Oh god, she just told Sameen she had to be more careful, but Meg’s right in front of her, looking up at her with those brown eyes, and Root swallows hard because _wow_ she’s nervous, and _wow_ Meg is gorgeous, and she’s not even sure what makes her do it, whether it’s because it’s her birthday or because Meg just looks especially pretty with the starlight reflecting in her eyes, but Root leans in even closer and before she can even process what she’s doing, she’s pressing her lips against Meg’s.

It’s the first time she’s kissed anyone since Hanna’s birthday party all those years ago. It feels… different now, but somehow so familiar. She closes her eyes and tries not to concentrate on her heart threatening to beat its way out of her chest as she inches her hand up to Meg’s waist. Yes, that seems like the right thing to do. She uses her other hand to brush a strand of hair behind Meg’s ear and just tries to focus on the movement of her lips against Meg’s. She hopes she’s doing it right. She’s never really–

Suddenly, she feels the back of her head slam into the wall behind her, and Meg leaps up from the couch, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. “I knew it!”

Root stares up at her, wide-eyed and confused as she rubs at the back of her head. “What?”

Meg grins widely, a cruelness sparking in her eyes. “I _knew_ you were a dyke.”

Root feels a stabbing pain in her chest as tears prick at her eyes. “W–what?”

“You’re _disgusting_ ,” Meg spits, grabbing her jacket off the arm of the couch. “A disgusting freak. I hope you rot in hell.” She storms out, slamming the door behind her.

Root sits on the couch, alone. Shocked, terrified, and utterly betrayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Root deserves all the hugs in the world...  
> chapter title is from "girl crush" by little big town


	5. Our hometown's in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root's situation has some very serious fallout...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: quite a bit of homophobia. a lot of it. that includes slurs, violence, and just general awfulness. please let me know if there's anything else specific that you think I should warn for!
> 
> (also, please please please let it be known that I, a known gay, do NOT condone or agree with any of this homophobia or any of the behavior of the assholes in this chapter. I do, however, condone the cuteness of lil shaw and the gayness of teen root. we should all aspire to be so cute and gay. and now on with the story!)

**January 3, 1995**

Root’s not expecting her first day back from winter break to be a walk in the park. She knows it’ll be awkward seeing Meg again, sure, and she certainly isn’t planning on eating lunch with Meg or her friends that day.

But she’s not expecting to see half the class whip their heads around the second she walks into homeroom that morning, or for them to start snickering and whispering to the kids who hadn’t been staring. Or for Katie Graham, who’s been sitting next to Root in homeroom for the last two years, to flinch as Root approaches her and pointedly scoot her chair in the other direction. Or for that exact same thing to keep happening _all morning_.

And maybe the worst part is that _no one will talk to her._ She’s sure Meg must have told someone _something_ , but she just has to find out _what_ exactly. So after fifth period, when Root decides all of this has gotten pretty old, she catches Meg by her locker, where Root knows she always stops to pick up her history textbook before heading to lunch.

Meg slams her locker and looks up to see Root staring at her expectantly. Meg meets her eyes with a cold gaze. “What do _you_ want?”

Root feels her heart fall. She had been spending winter break trying to convince herself that what happened with Meg on her birthday was just a horrible, horrible dream. That they were still friends, and Root had never ruined it all by trying to turn it into something it wasn’t, something Meg didn’t want, _couldn’t_ want, something _Root_ should never have let herself want in the first place–

“I don’t have all day,” Meg says, tapping her foot impatiently.

“W-what did you say?” Root manages to stammer out. “About me. To people, I mean. A-and also, what people? Which people?”

“Are you serious?” Meg asks, laughing pretty much right in Root’s face. “Don’t you try to blame me for this. I just told people the truth about what you _are_. About what you tried to _do_ to me.”

“What?” Root blinks, flustered, and feels her face start to flush. “No, I– I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“Didn’t mean to _what_?” Meg practically spits the words at Root, smirking as she notices the small crowd beginning to form around them. “Didn’t mean to _assault_ me? I’m not _like_ you, Samantha. I actually have _morals_. And those morals don’t include trying to force my _filthy_ body on someone just because I can’t control my damn hormones!”

Root can feel tears welling up in her eyes, but tries desperately to shove them back down. “What– no, I didn’t– I would never– I thought–”

“What? You thought I was a lesbo freak like you? That’s disgusting. _You’re_ disgusting. I knew all along, you know,” she adds, her lower lip curling up viciously. “Ever since that party, anyway. I mean, you were practically about to feel me up right there in Darren’s kitchen.”

“I got you a glass of water,” Root mumbles in protest, watching in horror as the other students cling to Meg’s every word, “That’s all.”

“But,” Meg continues, ignoring Root’s last remark, “You were just so _easy_. So much fun to mess with. What, did you think we were gonna be girlfriends and run off together like some kind of Juliet and Juliet, have our little happily ever after? Listen, Sam. Just know this. As long as you’re like _this_ , you don’t have a chance in hell at happiness.”

Meg glances over her shoulder and grins. “Why so angry?” she murmurs. At Root’s confused look, Meg grabs Root by her hair, spins her around, and slams her face-first into the nearest locker. Root gasps in shock as the two of them collapse to the floor.

Root blinks open her eyes to see a figure looming over her as a deep voice bellows, “What is the meaning of this?”

\---

“I already _told_ you,” Root says for at least the fourth time now, still trying to hide the anger she’s sure is obvious in her voice, “I didn’t do anything.”

“Miss Groves,” Principal Greer says, flashing her a condescending half-smile, “You seem to forget that I was there. I saw the entire thing.”

“Okay, then you must have seen _her_ –” Root gestures to Meg, who’s sitting next to her across from Greer’s desk, “Shove me into a locker when I didn’t even touch her.”

“You touched me plenty,” Meg mutters under her breath, and Root feels her face flushing bright red.

“Arguing will only be seen as insolence, Miss Groves,” Greer replies with a sigh. “You are to apologize for your actions and report to detention the moment the final bell rings this afternoon. Do you understand?”

Root stares at the floor and nods slowly.

“I said, do you understand?”

“I understand,” Root says, no longer bothering to mask the bitterness in her tone. She turns to Meg and looks into those brown eyes, the ones she used to get such joy out of gazing into, but that are now glaring at are with a wicked glint in them. “I’m sorry.” And she is. Sorry she couldn’t just leave well enough alone, sorry she had to push things too far, sorry she ruined everything with the one real friend she’d made since Hanna.

Root looks up at Greer. “May I please go see the nurse now?” She motions to the cuts on her face, which are quickly turning black and blue.

Greer shrugs. “If you must. But do try to be quick. It would just be irresponsible to miss any more class than you already have.”

\---

Thanks to her detention, Root’s ten minutes late picking Sameen up from school that day. Sameen isn’t in her usual spot in front of the school, but Root finds her on the playground, sitting on the roundabout, determinedly spinning around over and over again. Root rolls her eyes and grabs the handles of the roundabout, bringing it to an abrupt stop.

Sameen looks up, eyes going in all different directions, her face drenched in sweat. “What took you so long?” she asks.

“Sorry,” Root says, for what feels like the millionth time that day. “I got held up at school.”

Sam narrows her eyes. “What happened to your face?”

Root sighs. “It’s been a long day. I was thinking we could go get some ice cream. I mean, if that’s alright with you–”

Before she can even finish the sentence, Sameen is hopping to her feet and climbing off the roundabout.

“How long have you been on that thing?” Root asks, as she reaches out a hand to help Sameen down. “Aren’t you nauseous?”

“Not too nauseous for ice cream!” Sam looks at Root’s hand with disdain – Sameen Shaw does _not_ need help – and jumps down on her own.

There’s only one real ice cream parlor in Bishop, other than the ice cream trucks and stands that pop up in the summer. But in January, their options are limited. When Sameen bursts through the doors, Root by her side, Root immediately decides this was a mistake.  

As the bell by the door chimes, signaling the arrival of a new customer, everyone in the shop turns and stares. Root tries to keep her head down, but it’s no use. Especially not with Sameen tugging on her belt loop and asking, “Root, what are you doing?” Her classmates may not call her Root, but they know it’s what she wants to be called, and apparently she’s not the only student who was craving ice cream as an afterschool snack.

She makes her way up to the counter, where a girl Root’s pretty sure is in her math class is waiting behind a stack of ice cream cones. Her name tag says “Cindy” and she looks utterly terrified.

“Please,” Root mumbles, “Don’t make this difficult.”

Cindy’s eyes wander to the tables full of people all staring at Root. Some of them aren’t even students. And yet somehow, Root realizes, they _all know_.

It’s one thing for Root to deal with it all day. But she can’t handle having Sameen see what’s been happening to her. That would just push her over the edge. So she leans down and whispers, “I think we should leave, Sam.”

“But–”

“Sam,” Root repeats, more sharply than she intended.

Sam’s face turns cold. “Fine.”

Root leads her out of the ice cream shop, feeling everyone’s eyes on her as she walks out. Once they’re outside, she turns to Sameen. “I’m sorry,” she says yet again. “There’s just… some stuff going on.”

Sameen shrugs. “Can we at least go to the store and get ice cream?”

Root grimaces. “I… I think maybe it’d be better if we just went home. You have ice cream there, right?”

“Yeah,” Sam grumbles, “But it’s _vanilla_.”

Root feels a hint of a smile growing on her face for the first time in days. “Well, rain check on our ice cream party, then, okay, sweetie?”

Sam nods reluctantly, but Root still can’t help but feel like she’s disappointing one of the only people who still believes in her.

\---

When Sanaz comes home that night, she finds Root on the couch with a bag of frozen peas on her face and an _X-Files_ rerun on TV.

“Are you okay?” Sanaz asks, and Root jumps at the sound of her voice.

“What? Oh. Yeah,” Root says, switching the TV off. “Um, these haven’t been out too long,” she says, motioning to the frozen peas, “So I’m sure they’re still useable, but if not–”

Sanaz takes off her coat and sits next to Root. “It’s fine, Root, believe me, I haven’t been able to get Sameen to eat peas since she was a toddler and I snuck them into her mashed potatoes. It’s fine. Although,” she adds, cautiously removing the bag from Root’s face, “Quite honestly, she’ll probably be more likely to eat these now that there’s blood on the bag.”

Root blushes. “Sorry.”

“No, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Sanaz replies, examining the cuts on Root’s face. “What happened to you?”

“Oh. Um, nothing. I fell into a locker at school.”

Okay,” Sanaz says skeptically, but she doesn’t question Root’s story. “Let me go get something to clean this up with.”

She returns a moment later and carefully begins working on Root’s injuries. “Didn’t you go to the school nurse?”

“She just gave me an ice pack and some Tylenol and told me to go back to class,” Root shrugs.

Sanaz chuckles. “Sounds about right.” Once she’s done patching up Root, she asks, “Are you sure you’re okay? Is there anything I can get you?”

“Yeah. I mean, no, there’s nothing you can get me. Yeah, I’m sure I’m okay. Thanks for asking.”

Sanaz presses the back of her hand to Root’s forehead. “Are you sure you’re not feeling sick?”

Root quickly stands up and begins pulling on her jacket. “I’m fine. Thank you. Um, have a good night. Oh, and, uh, Sam wants chocolate ice cream. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She slings her backpack over her shoulder and leaves without another word.

\---

Just after midnight, Eileen Groves pushes open the front door to find her daughter, wearing sweatpants and a baggy, faded Texas Rangers t-shirt, curled up on the couch with a can of grape soda and a worn-out copy of _1984_. She frowns. “You’re still doing homework?”

“Hmm?” Root says. She looks down at the book in her hands. “Oh. No, just some light reading. I couldn’t sleep, anyway.”

Eileen kicks off her shoes and sits down next to Root. “It’s probably good that you’re still up. Listen, Sam. Bishop is a small town. And the diner is… well, customers like to gossip.” She sighs. “How could you let me find this out from them, Samantha?”

Root closes her book and takes a deep breath. “What did they tell you?”

“You know damn well what they told me, Sam. Why didn’t _you_ tell me? At least give me some warning?” Eileen closes her eyes and shakes her head. “I had to find out from those drunk old ladies from church that you’ve been running around kissing David Rousseau’s daughter. What’s her name, Martine?”

“She prefers Meg,” Root mumbles.

“Okay, fine, Meg,” Eileen says. “Sam, why would you do something like that?”

Root raises her eyebrows at that. “I mean…”

“Never mind,” Eileen says quickly. “I just… do you know how this makes us look?  People are going to talk, Samantha. They already are. And you couldn’t even tell me yourself?”

And suddenly, the tears Root’s been holding in all day come flooding out all at once. “I’m sorry,” she gasps out, trying to catch her breath. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to find out like this. I wanted to tell you. I just didn’t know how you’d… I’m so sorry, Mom, I’m so sorry.”

Eileen wraps her arms around her daughter and pulls her close, kissing the top of her head. Root’s tears soak into her mom’s shirt, but neither of them pulls away.

“Honey,” Eileen murmurs, stroking her fingers through Root’s hair, “Don’t be sorry. None of this is your fault, okay?”

Root shakes her head and makes a muffling whimpering sound.

“Hey, it’s not,” Eileen says firmly. She squeezes Root’s hand. “It’s not your fault. You’re just sick. You can’t help that.”

Root feels her heart drop in her chest. She pulls away and gapes at her mother. “W– what?”

“Sam, honey, it’s okay,” Eileen says gently. “It’s an illness. You’re the victim here. I mean–” She gestures to the bruises on Root’s face– “Just look what’s happening to you. You just have to be as strong as I know you can be and not act on any of these… feelings again, alright?”

Root stares, open-mouthed, and after a long pause, her face loses all emotion and she slowly nods. “Alright.”

Eileen pulls Root in for another hug. “That’s my girl. And listen,” she adds, looking Root in the eye. “We’re not gonna talk about this. We’re not even gonna think about it. I hear anyone around town call you a queer, I’ll set ‘em straight. You just try to get yourself better.”

Root wipes her nose with the back of her hand and wordlessly walks off to her room, leaving her book and her soda behind on the table.

\---

**January 15, 1995**

Root can’t remember the last time Sanaz asked her to come in on a Sunday, especially at the last minute. Sanaz doesn’t work weekends, so she doesn’t need Root to look after Sameen.

But today, she gets a call from a tired-sounding Sanaz around noon, asking her to come over. “It won’t take long,” she says. “I don’t need you to look after Sameen today. I just wanted to talk to you in person.” And Root knows exactly what’s coming.

Sanaz is at least nice enough to sugar-coat it for her. “It’s just, Sameen is eleven now. She’s getting a bit old for a babysitter. She’ll be in junior high soon. She’s not going to need–”

“It’s okay,” Root interrupts. She smiles weakly as a fresh wave of guilt floods over Sanaz’s face.

“It’s not,” Sanaz admits. “I’m… are you going to be okay?”

Root shrugs, struggling to maintain a look of casual indifference. “I mean, it’s not like I wasn’t expecting it, you know?”

“Oh. You mean because–”

“Like you said,” Root says, choosing her words very carefully, “Sameen’s getting older. It’s not like I don’t know that. I’ve seen the way people around town react to… kids with babysitters. They can be cruel. You don’t want that for Sameen. I don’t blame you.”

“And it’s not that _I_ have a problem with it,” Sanaz adds. “Or that it’s a huge shock, really.”

“Yeah,” Root chuckles, “I kind of suspected.”

“I just have to protect my daughter,” Sanaz explains. “You’re a great, kid, Root. You really are. But my own kid has to come first.”

Root nods. “I understand.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, no. You do what you gotta do.” Root takes a deep breath. “Could I– would it be okay if I– if I could, um, see her?” She brushes away a tear threatening to fall from her eye. “Just to say goodbye?”

“Of course,” Sanaz says immediately, standing up and heading for the stairs.

“Wait. Does she– does she know? Did you tell her?”

“I told her you’re leaving, yes.” Sanaz sighs. “The rest of it, well, I didn’t tell her, but I’m sure she knows.” She pauses for a moment. “I really am sorry, Root.”

“I know.”

A minute later, Sanaz comes down the stairs with a very grumpy-looking Sameen. Root feels a twinge in her chest at the thought of no more movie marathons, no more horrifying, artery-clogging pizzas, no more watching Sameen literally run circles around her at every sport they play together… but she pushes it down. She’s done enough crying.

She forces a smile and says, “How’s it hanging, Sameen?”

Sanaz sends her a hopeful glance and heads into the kitchen.

As soon as she’s gone, Sameen turns to Root and says, “I didn’t tell anyone. I swear!”

Root’s fake smile becomes just a little less fake. “I know you didn’t, sweetie. It’s okay. I know you didn’t. Thank you.”

Sam balls her hands up into tiny fists. “I’m gonna beat that girl up so bad. I’m gonna break her whole entire face. We’re not gonna let her get away with it, Root.”

Root gently places a hand on Sameen’s shoulder. Sameen follows Root’s hand with her eyes, just staring at it. “That’s a very nice offer,” Root says, “But I wouldn’t want you to get in any trouble.”

“Well, then what do we do?”

“Unfortunately, sweetie, _we_ can’t do much of anything.”

“But that’s not fair!” Sam protests.

Root sighs. “You’re right, it’s not. I’m really sorry all this is happening, Sam.”

Sameen mutters something about breaking some kneecaps, which Root decides to let slide this time.

Root takes a deep breath. “Alright, kiddo. I guess it’s time for me to say goodbye. I know you’re not much of a hugger, but–”

Sameen wraps her arms around Root and squeezes her as hard as she possibly can.

Root lets out a surprised laugh. “Whoa, okay, Sameen. Not exactly what I was expecting, but I’ll definitely take it.”

Sameen pulls away quickly, but looks quite pleased with herself.

“Goodbye, Sameen. I’m gonna miss you.”

Sameen gives a half-hearted wave and stares at her shoes. “Bye, Root.”

She doesn’t take her eyes off the ground until Root is all the way out the door and halfway down the block.

\---

**June 7, 1997**

Root doesn’t bother attending her high school graduation. Who needs two and a half hours of sitting uncomfortably amongst a bunch of people you’re pretending you wouldn’t set on fire if given the chance, being stared at by thousands of beady little eyes, and listening to everyone talk about how much _fun_ high school was for all of them, when you’ve already had two and a half years of it?

She doesn’t even pick up her cap and gown from school. By the time graduation day rolls around, she’s packed up everything she owns into some dusty old suitcases she found in the basement (her mom won’t miss them. It’s not like they’ve ever _used_ them), and has loaded them into the back of the rusty old Buick she got at the used car lot with some of the money she’s been saving up over the last few years. Ever since she was accepted early to MIT on a full scholarship last December, she’s been counting the seconds until she could leave this godforsaken town and never look back.

And today is finally that day. She loads the last of her bags into the car and checks her watch. Not even four. Her mom won’t be back from the diner for hours. Good. Gives her plenty of time to get a head start.

Root takes one last glance around the house, just to make sure she didn’t forget anything, before locking the door behind her and placing her key under the mat. She slides into the front seat of the car and pops in a Melissa Etheridge cassette, the first of many she’s prepared for the long drive ahead of her. She takes a deep breath and starts the engine. She’s really doing this.

Just one last stop before she goes.

The drive seems so short, given that she’s grown accustomed to the twenty-minute walk between their houses. Or at least, she had; it’s been a while.

She parks across the street and starts to open the door when a flash of movement catches her eye. Sameen, thirteen years old now – not much younger than Root was when they first met, Root realizes with a smile – comes clambering out of the house, clad in a softball jersey and shorts. She’s running on the grass so as not to scuff her cleats – and Root’s as shocked as anyone to realize she actually knows that – and tugging her cap onto her head as her mother loads a cooler into the car.

Sameen pulls the bat out of her equipment bag, which she tosses into the trunk. She squares up her stance, focuses on a spot in the distance, and swings the bat as hard as she can.

“Sameen!” Sanaz scolds, reaching out for the bat. “Put that away, you’re going to hurt someone.”

Sam smirks. “Fine.”

“I mean it, Sam.”

“I said fine, Mom!” Sam rolls her eyes, but smiles as much as she can so that Sanaz knows she’s not actually mad.

Root watches this carefree girl playing around with her mom almost like she used to with Root, and she just… she can’t bring herself to take that away from her. There’s no point in going to say goodbye when it would just cause both of them more pain. The wound has had two and a half years to heal; why re-open it now when she’s just going to leave again?

Root sighs and closes the car door. She should have known better.

As she drives off, she can swear she feels a pair of dark, disappointed eyes following her from the driveway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they grow up so fast...
> 
> chapter title is from "hometown" by twenty one pilots


	6. Where can you run to escape from yourself?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root gets some bad news while she's off at college, but it turns everything around for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god, i know it's been forever since i updated. i got a job (a shitty minimum wage fast food job, but a job) and i've been so busy... BUT! i'm back! and so is root's happiness! (by the end of the chapter, anyway)

**October 8, 1999**

Root’s not alone when the phone rings.

It’s a bit surprising, actually. She spends most of her nights alone. Days too, for that matter, at least when she’s not in class. Why bother spending time with a bunch of pretentious, entitled, annoyingly talkative people when she can just stay in her room with her mini-fridge and her computer?

But there are some things the computer can’t do for her. Well, Root supposes it _could_ , if she really wanted to take the time and energy to perfect the tech, but it’s much easier to just down a few shots and find a friendly enough stranger willing to… lend a helping hand.

So when the phone suddenly starts ringing a little after midnight, Root’s a little, ahem, _busy._ She practically jumps out of her skin at the sound, and it’s all she can do not to fall off the bed. Reaching over to the nightstand, she gropes around blindly in the dark, knocking over various non-phone items as she goes.

“Leave it,” the girl in Root’s bed – should Root have gotten her name, she wonders? Maybe, but it would just be rude to ask at this point – murmurs, leaning down for a kiss.

“Mmm, no,” Root protests, pulling away. “No one ever calls this late unless it’s important.” She doesn’t really feel the need to add that no one ever calls, _period_ , nor does she bother waiting for a counterargument before grabbing the phone off the hook. “Hello?” She stares at the phone, as if it’s somehow confused her. “Hello?” she says again.

The girl giggles and snuggles herself up to Root, who’s not sure whether or not to be grateful that it’s too dark to see the profoundly uncomfortable expression on her face.

“No, no,” she says, awkwardly trying to tuck the phone between her ear and her shoulder, “I was up.” She lets out an involuntary laugh as the girl runs her fingers across Root’s stomach, but pushes her hand away all the same.

Root frowns into the receiver and tries to ignore her newfound cuddle buddy kissing her neck. “Did something happen?” she asks, twirling the phone cord around her finger. She pauses. “What about her?”

In a moment, Root’s eyes cloud over with a thousand different emotions. She turns to look at the half-naked girl beside her, almost a bit surprised to see her still there. Root inhales sharply and quietly hisses, “Get out.”

“What?”

“Get _out_ ,” Root repeats, the words coming out slightly harsher this time. “Now. Please.” Her voice shakes just a bit. “Go!”

The girl shoots her a confused glare, but rolls out of bed, gathers her clothes, and is out of Root’s dorm room within a minute.

\---

Sanaz honestly isn’t expecting Root to pick up the phone. Practically the entire town of Bishop is already asleep, and it’s even later on the east coast. But no one else has been able to get ahold of Root (not that anyone’s really tried all that hard), and she just can’t stand the thought of Root going to bed without knowing.

 So she tracks down her spare key to the Groves house – a relic from Root’s babysitting days, given to Sanaz in case of emergency – and gets to work tearing the place apart. Root didn’t just disappear off the face of the earth when she left town, right? There must be _some_ way to contact her.

And sure enough, there is. She finds a stack of letters in an otherwise empty kitchen drawer, all but one unopened. The first, and the only one that’s been opened, is postmarked June of 1997. The most recent one is from just last month.

Sanaz takes one last look around the kitchen and sighs. She’s exhausted all her other options. She reluctantly removes the first letter from the envelope and skims it.

It’s short and sweet: a goodbye from Root to her mother, explaining why she’s leaving Bishop and where she’s going, telling her that she loves her, that she’ll be okay and promising she’ll stay safe, and listing an address and phone number in case anyone wants to reach her.

Sanaz flips through the letters, taking note of the postmarks. June 10, 1997. May 18, 1998. August 27, 1998. May 20, 1999. And the most recent, September 1, 1999. All times when Root would have switched dorms at the end of the semester, Sanaz realizes.

She carefully slits open the envelope from last month and scans the paper in search of a phone number. And sure enough, there it is.

Sanaz takes a seat at the kitchen counter and picks up the phone. She takes a deep breath and waits as it rings.

Root answers on the fourth ring. “Hello?” Her voice is breathy and muffled.

“Root?”

“Hello?”

“Root, darling, is that you? It’s Sanaz. Shaw. Sameen’s mom. I hope I didn’t wake you–”

“No, no. I was up.” Root’s distinct chuckle and snort combination echoes through the phone line.

Her voice has a strange tone to it, but Sanaz goes on anyway. “Listen, Root, I know it’s been a while, but no one else could get in touch with you, and it’s important that you know.”

“Did something happen?”

Sanaz still can’t quite make out her tone, but then that girl always was a bit of an enigma. She takes a deep breath. “It’s your mother.”

The line goes silent for a moment.

“Root?”

“What about her?” Root asks quietly.

“I’m so sorry to have to tell you like this,” Sanaz says, as gently as she can. “Root, she’d been sick for a while – a brain tumor – it was a long time coming–” She stops herself and lets out a breath. She can just picture how angry Sameen would be at her for beating around the bush like this. “Your mom died earlier today. I’m so sorry.”

More silence. More breathing. And then what sounds like a hand covering the mouthpiece and Root’s voice whispering, “Get out.”

Sanaz listens to the scuffle on the other end of the line and waits. She’s been a doctor for almost twenty years now; this is hardly her first time delivering this kind of news. But it never gets any easier. And it’s a thousand times harder having to say it to someone you care about. She’d gotten off easy when Naveed died. The fireman had done her dirty work for her with Sameen. She supposes she’s doing her penance now with Root.

“A brain tumor, huh?” Root says in a small, hollow voice.

“She was diagnosed just over a year ago. Terminal.”

“Hmm. She didn’t tell me,” Root murmurs, her voice a perfect blend of detachment and bitterness.

Sanaz finds herself at a loss for words. “Root…”

Root’s voice suddenly speeds up, almost manically. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t one of those tumors like you see on TV, was it? The ones that change your personality? You know how things get messed up in people’s brains and it changes who they are and it turns them into a different person? You– you know, a– a horrible, a manipulative, hateful person? It… it wasn’t like that, was it?” She pauses for a second. “It wasn’t like that.”

“No,” Sanaz replies, wishing desperately that she could offer anything else, “It wasn’t like that.”

“No,” Root says with a sigh, “I didn’t think so.”

“Listen, Root–”

“The funeral,” Root says suddenly. “Do I– do I have to plan it? How do I–”

“Root, darling,” Sanaz says, dreading every word of what she’s about to say, “She had no money. There’s not going to be a funeral.”

“What? N– no, that doesn’t make sense. Even if she didn’t have any money, they can sell– they can sell the house, or–”

“The house was rented. She sold the car when she was diagnosed. Root, I would pitch in if I could, please believe me, I absolutely would, but–”

“No, no, of course,” Root mutters absent-mindedly. “So what happens to her, then? Do they just… leave her somewhere? Dump her in the lake or something?”

“She’s being cremated at the county morgue sometime this week. I was wondering if you’d like someone to send you the ashes. If you just give me a mailing address, I can arrange something, and–”

“No. Thank you for letting me know. Have a good night.”

Sanaz hears a _click_ and the line goes dead. She cringes. Certainly she could’ve been more tactful. But there are arrangements that have to be made, and _someone_ had to tell Root. No one else even wanted to bother with her.

There’s not much left to do at what was once the home of the Groves family, so Sanaz locks up, leaving the place how she found it, and drives home to find an irritated Sameen waiting for her in the kitchen, halfway through a frighteningly large sandwich.

“Where’ve you been?” she mumbles through an enormous mouthful of food.

Sanaz tosses her purse on the couch and sighs. “Eileen Groves passed away today. Didn’t you eat dinner?”

“Yeah.” Sameen shrugs. “Root’s mom’s dead?”

Sanaz nods. “I spoke to Root–”

Sameen swallows an entire chunk of sandwich without even chewing. “You spoke to Root?”

“On the phone. To let her know what happened, and to see if she’s doing okay.”

Sameen frowns. Root’s always been sensible. Well, except when it came to _that_ girl, but Sameen doesn’t like thinking about that. No one around town does. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

Sanaz sighs. “Sameen. I know you were never Ms. Groves’ biggest fan, but she was Root’s mother.”

“So?” Sam shrugs. “Root hated her. She ran away just to get away from her. Why would she be sad?”

Once again, Sanaz finds herself deeply grateful (and then guilty) that she wasn’t the one who had to tell Sameen about her father. She’s not sure how she would’ve handled that conversation, but however she did, she’s pretty sure it would’ve been the wrong way. “Ms. Groves may not have been… the _nicest_ person–”

“Not the nicest person? She was kind of a giant bitch,” Sameen says, her mouth full of sandwich.

Sanaz gives her a pointed look, her face tired and worn. “Sameen.”

“Well, she _was_ ,” Sameen mumbles.

Sanaz doesn’t have the energy to argue (and quite frankly, she was never all that fond of Eileen Groves either, so she’s not even sure it’s worth the effort), but she manages a “Try not to speak ill of the dead.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes as Sameen finishes her sandwich. As she takes her plate to the sink, she turns back to her mother and asks, “So was she sad?”

“Who?”

“Root. Is she okay?”

“Well, she seemed a bit shaken. It’s hard to tell over the phone. But I’m sure she’s at least a little sad, yes. For all their differences, Ms. Groves was her mother.”

Sameen sits back down and folds her arms across the counter. “But that doesn’t make sense. She shouldn’t be upset.”

“These things don’t always make sense, Sameen,” Sanaz says gently. “In fact, they usually don’t. I know you don’t understand it. You don’t have to, darling. You just have to respect it. Every life matters, Sameen, even the ones we don’t like. They were still people, just like you and me.”

For once in her life, Sameen finds herself speechless. She has a thousand questions, but no words to ask any of them.

Sanaz reaches across the counter to give Sameen’s hand a quick squeeze. “You know,” she says with a soft smile, “I’m sure Root would appreciate it if you called her in the morning to check in on her.”

Sameen quickly brushes her hair behind her ear and stares at the floor. “She doesn’t want to hear from me. It’s fine.” She rubs her eyes and abruptly stands up. “Good night.”

\---

Root sits at her desk, watching the numbers on her digital clock radio flicker by. 2:32. 2:33. 2:34…  

She turns her attention to the stuffed ugly bat perched by her pillow, just staring at her with its terrifying yellow eyes. She scowls. “What’re you looking at?”

The bat doesn’t respond. It just… keeps watching her.

Root sighs. “Sorry.” She turns the stuffed animal around so that it’s facing the wall, and then wraps herself in her softest flannel, chugs a Diet Coke from her mini-fridge, and starts up her computer.

Her fingers are flying across the keys until the sun starts peeking through her blinds and she hears the birds chirping outside. That’s when she’s ready to be done with it.

She’s done plenty of hacking before. None of this is new to her. But this one has to be perfect. This one _can’t_ get traced back to her. Not that she’s ever gotten caught before, but she certainly doesn’t plan to start now.

She looks at the two bank statements on her screen. RUSSELL, TRENT and RUSSELL, BARBARA. A rush of anger runs through her just seeing their names.

But she doesn’t have time for that right now. With a series of clicks, both accounts are drained, and their entire balance is routed to the account of SMOOT, RUDIGER (so Root gets a little punchy at four AM. Who doesn’t?)

Rudiger Smoot makes a generous donation to the only funeral home in Bishop with specific instructions to put it towards the funeral of Eileen Groves. Smoot sends an email (and an expedited letter, snail mail-style, because Bishop is still living in the 1800s) listing the exact details for the funeral: to be held at the Church of the Holy Prophet (Root may not be religious, but hell if she’s gonna let those annoying snobby ladies from church gossip about her mother), officiated by Father Carmichael, then a burial at Bishop Township Cemetery, an oak casket (or maybe maple– Smoot’s not picky) with a satin lining, and a granite headstone engraved with her full name.

There’s not a lot of money left over. Funerals are way more expensive than they should be, Root thinks, but she’s not about to let anyone else go without a proper burial. She’s not letting anyone else be taken away from her, probably thrown in the dirt, her body left to disintegrate until it’s nothing more than bones, never to be seen again… Not this time.

She doesn’t _need_ more money. But just for good measure, she finds her way into the account of one ROUSSEAU, MARTINE. She shudders. She’s tried to forget that name for so long. She’d tried to leave Meg back in Bishop with the rest of her miserable memories, but some things just never leave you.

So she decides Meg should know what that’s like. Meg had gotten a full ride to college on some big-time soccer scholarship, so her entire college fund is still intact– and in her name. Root wonders how she swung that. Probably _promised_ her dad that she’d _never_ misuse it in any way, and since she’s always so true to her word…

Well, some funds are about to get misused. In less than a minute, Rudiger Smoot is in possession of Meg’s checking account, savings account, and her college fund. Tens of thousands of dollars, never to be seen by Meg again.

Root smiles to herself, imagining Meg’s reaction when her credit card gets declined, probably when she’s out with all the friends she’s made at her fancy new college. The thought makes her giggle out loud to herself. Root shuts down her computer, turns out the light, and curls up in bed with the stuffed bat, a huge grin on her face for the first time in ages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (yeah, i confused myself with the ms. groves thing too...)
> 
> chapter title is from "dare you to move" by switchfoot


End file.
